The war on... Advent?

http://wp.me/p6XvvJ-n

Bad Thief, Good Thief

Morning readings: Psalms 84; 148, 1 Kings 11:26-43, James 4:13-5:6, Mark 15:22-32

“Those crucified with him also heaped insults upon him.”                                                                                                 - Mark 15:32b

The gospels tell us that when Jesus was crucified, two bandits – sometimes called thieves but likely convicted as insurrectionists since crucifixion was reserved for enemies of the Roman state – hung on crosses to either side of him. In Luke's gospel one of them defends Jesus against the mocking of the crowd and the other bandit, but in Matthew and Mark they both join with the crowd.

Are we more inclined to prefer the version with the "good" thief? Which do we think is a more likely

scenario? Most of the time, most of us try to get through life the best we can. Some days – when our children are sick, our marriage is troubled, our job search is going poorly, our parents are ailing, our health is failing – that best doesn't look too good to other people. During those times we all could benefit from people cutting us a little slack. And very often during those times we need to remember (and sometimes fail) not to take our frustrations out on others. Though we aren't being crucified, own fears and frustrations can blind us to the struggles of those we think are behaving badly or worthy of scorn. The sad truth is we tend to lash out at others when we recognize our own failures in them.

None of us wants to be a bad thief, but before we can be the good thief we have to be honest about our own shortcomings. Once we find the strength that is present in true humility – not the kind that shames us but the kind that frees us – we are more compassionate with ourselves and others. Let's not wait until we come face-to-face with Jesus to find that humble strength. Today we can admit our burdens are sometimes more than we can bear with grace, and lay them at the foot of the cross. Without that weight, just maybe we can help lift someone else up too.

Evening readings: Psalms 25; 40

More is Less, Less is More

Morning readings: Psalms 116; 147:12-20, 1 Kings 11:1-13, James 3:13-4:12, Mark 15:12-21

"To want what I have, to take what I’m given with grace...for this, I pray."

- from “For My Wedding” by Don Henley

Is it human nature to be dissatisfied with what we have? Some pop psychologists portray chronic dissatisfaction as a modern ailment, but nearly twenty centuries ago the Book of James chronicled it:

"Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts." (James 4:1-2)

The downfall of King Solomon, who was revered for decades as Israel's wisest king, was due to his desire for nearly countless wives from foreign lands; despite God's warnings, they eventually led him to worship strange gods and fall out of the Lord's favor (Kings 11:1-13).

Carp competing for food.

Perhaps we long for more material comforts, more lovers, or more power because we believe they will provide contentment. Maybe our desires are masked as virtues, and we become frustrated when we seek to find patience, wisdom, or kindness beyond our natural abilities. Whether we feel we lack possessions or attitude, whose standard are we trying to live up to? God has created and loves us just as we are. When we learn to accept that love and just be, our need to have and be more evaporates. Mysteriously that's also how we begin to learn to be more: more Christ-like, more content, more loving of ourselves and others.

Jesus expressed faith in our ability to rise above our acquisitive natures and seek that which is truly valuable. In parables about pearls of great price and hidden treasures, by asking rich young men to give up all they had, he revealed the truth of gaining everything by letting it all go.

Evening readings: Psalms 26; 130

Broken Rudders

Morning readings: Psalms 96; 147:1-11, 1 Kings 9:24-10:13, James 3:1-12, Mark 15:1-11

The Book of James teaches the tongue is small but capable of great feats. James compares this smallest of organs to a tiny rudder guiding large ships through strong winds (Jam 3:4). For this reason he warns religious teaching is a perilous pursuit, as our tongues are difficult to tame and when used carelessly cause great misdirection and harm to ourselves and others. Teachers, James says, are held to a higher standard because a spring cannot produce both brackish and fresh waters (v 11).

The chief priests and other leaders appearing in Mark 15 would have served as teachers. When Pilate, who realized Jesus had been brought to him because these leaders were jealous (Mk 15:10), offered to free a prisoner, these leaders used their tongues to convince the people to instead free Barabbas. Historically Jesus and Barabbas would both have been guilt of insurrection and similar crimes, but according to Mark Barabbas was also a murderer. The chief priests used their powerful tongues to steer the crowd to free a killer instead of a messiah.

Even today many a preacher grows a flock by appealing to people's baser nature and focusing on the "enemies" of the church. In the Western world, authentic persecution of Christians is almost unheard of, and systematic persecution is non-existent. Yet some preachers insist on targeting a group (when one group is not politically viable for attack they will move on to the next) and claiming specific people are the enemy we need to fight, all the while twisting the message to seem like love.

We do have real enemies, but Jesus taught us to love them. He also taught us what to fight: poverty, injustice, oppression, and the planks in our own eyes. The best teachers and preachers do not spend their time closing ranks and vilifying others falsely. They know binding Christ's message to hate crucifies undeserving victims. They open our eyes to how Christ's love transforms us, and through us transforms the world.

Evening readings: Psalms 132; 134

Faith Works

Morning readings: Psalms 12; 146, 1 Kings 8:65-9:9, James 2:14-26, Mark 14:66-72

Did you know the Book of James was considered suspect by many early Christians for almost 300 years? Or that Martin Luther wanted it out of the Bible? The center of the controversy is the ongoing debate over whether Christians achieve salvation through faith alone, or whether good works are necessary to attain (or maintain) salvation. In his letters, Paul wrote over and over again that faith alone is the key to the salvation God gives freely. James says faith without works is dead (James 2:17).

Could it be possible this argument misses the point entirely? After all, the gospels themselves seem to be far less concerned with this delineation between faith and works. John's gospel is the most specific about justification through faith, mentioning several times only those who believe will find eternal life. But throughout all the gospels, Jesus speaks about faith as it is expressed through action. This message is loud and clear at the end of Matthew 25: in these verses the Lord welcomes into the Kingdom those who clothed the naked, fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, invited in the stranger, and visited the imprisoned … and rejected those who did not. This passage makes it very clear works of mercy are integral – maybe inevitable – to a life of faith.

Works do not save us, but they are a thermometer indicating whether our faith is cold and dead or burning with the flame of the Spirit. If we are not inspired to the work of the Kingdom, we may want to consider that a sign our faith has been uttered from cool intellect rather than an impassioned heart. As James says: "Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, 'Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?" (vv. 15-17). A faith that cares for nothing but our own personal salvation is a hollow and selfish thing, the good china we refuse to serve food on no matter how hungry our guests may be.

Evening readings: Psalms 36; 7

You Are What You Eat

Today's readings: Psalms 119:73-80; 145, Jeremiah 1:11-19, Romans 1:1-15, John 4:27-42

We’ve all heard the phrase “You are what you eat.” The foods we take into our bodies determine our health, our energy levels, and even our moods. Many diseases are directly related to diet, and we can prevent, control, or cure them through careful eating habits. In her novel Like Water for Chocolate, author Laura Esquivel explores the idea that our emotions can permeate the food we prepare, altering the experience of the people who consume it.

Jesus once told his disciples, who were asking if he was hungry: “I have food to eat that you do not know about” (John 4:32). In their stubbornly literal manner, they assumed he was talking about physical food and wondered who brought it, so he further explained: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work” (v 34).What a radical idea: that we can be nourished by giving, and not just by receiving.

Mission trips can be hard work. We may think of missionaries as people who travel and convert “pagans” on someone else’s dime, but modern missions tend to focus on service. From digging wells to repairing homes to facing down sex traffickers, today’s missionaries spread the Good News by showing how it’s transformed their hearts. Almost to a person, they will tell us the hard, sometimes brutal, work fills them with purpose and leaves them rejuvenated.

Doing God’s work feeds us. It strengthens and refreshes our spirits. Maybe we start doing it because we think it’s what’s required of us, but if we surrender to the joy that can be found in service, we will find our spiritual hunger is satisfied not by the result or the gratitude (which may not always be present), but by the act of service itself.

As Christians we gather around the communion table, which represents God’s ultimate work in the world through the person of Jesus Christ. How fitting we commemorate him in a meal that is both physical and spiritual. When we share the bread and cup, we remember blessings are multiplied when we use them to serve others.

Evening readings: Psalms 121; 6

Fools for Wisdom

Today's readings: Psalms 84; 150, Jeremiah 1:1-10, 1 Corinthians 3:11-23, Mark 3:31-4:9

What does it mean to be wise? Unlike certain types of intelligence, wisdom is not something we can rate on a scale. Neither is it the same as knowledge, which we can acquire by the ton without finding an ounce of wisdom. The cliché that wisdom comes with experience certainly holds some truth, yet many people manage to experience decades without growing much wiser at all and some young people are what we call wise beyond their years. Though most of us would like to be wise, few of us would honestly describe ourselves as such.

In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul says calls the thoughts of the wise futile (Cor 3:20). He advises them: “Do not deceive yourselves. If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools so that you may become wise” (Cor 3:19). What could this contradictory message mean?

Worldly wisdom points toward wealth, power, security, and a legalistic kind of justice. God’s wisdom, expressed through the teachings of Christ, points toward humility, mercy, risk, and a kind of justice that is about serving those most in need. The worldly view is often more appealing, and the temptation to rationalize our own desires and prejudices is a strong one. When we interact with the world, particularly if we are called to lead in some way, we should humbly seek God’s will above our own. Our confidence is to be primarily in God, not in our own thoughts and desires. True wisdom does not seek to teach so much as to learn.

Acting out of God’s wisdom may make us look foolish to the world, but it also empowers us. When Jeremiah insisted he was too young to be a prophet, God told him: “Do not say, ‘I am only a boy’; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you.” (Jer 1:7). Is there a sense of freedom in knowing we are not under pressure to be wise, but instead to be listening for and guided by God’s wisdom? After we listen we must still act with integrity, discernment, and accountability – as only a fool can do.

Evening readings: Psalms 42; 32

It's 3:16 somewhere...

Today's readings:   Psalms 27; 147:12-20, Deuteronomy 9:23-10:5, Hebrews 4:1-10, John 3:16-21

John 3:16 is possibly the most commercially successful verse in the Bible. It's so marketable that the reference alone is enough to sell millions of keychains, bumper stickers, t-shirts, coffee mugs, eyeglass cases, and just about anything else that can sport an imprint. It is the unofficial logo of Brand Jesus.

It's a beautiful verse that sums up the message of the gospel: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life." Is it possible it could be a little too popular? Without delving into the whole discussion about faith versus works, is it possible we can be so happy all we have to do is "believe" that we never get around to doing the work of God's kingdom? After all, belief is a solitary and internal occurrence. It doesn't feed the poor or clothe the naked, or do any of the things Jesus says we do for him when we do them for the least of our sisters and brothers.

The verses following John 3:16 expand on its statement, and describe how those who believe embrace the light, and those who don't believe stay in the darkness because it hides their deeds. No matter how strongly we "believe in him" (and what exactly that means is a discussion unto itself), maybe we should spend a few moments considering whether we would be comfortable with Christ's light shining on our lives. Belief is the beginning of faith, not the end. If how we live our lives does not stand up to the light, our belief dies on our lips instead of living in our hearts.

Jesus's sacrifice requires more from us than buying our accessories at the local branch of "3:!6 24/7." Bumper stickers will eventually fade in the light; the service we perform in Christ's name is eternal.

Evening readings:  Psalms 126; 102

Money Changes Everything

Today's readings: Psalms 34; 146, Deuteronomy 9:(1-3) 4-12, Hebrews 3:1-11, John 2:13-22

Today's reading from John is one of the most famous Jesus stories of all time. Jesus enters the temple and -- incensed by the money changers and people selling animals -- he fashions a whip out of cords and drives them away livestock and all. He then turns over the tables of the moneychangers. Scary, eh? This  Jesus is not the forgiving Prince of Peace in whom we find comfort. This Jesus is angry and impulsive.

Or is he? We don't know how many cords he used, but creating a whip involved knotting each one in a specific fashion. Not an all-day process, but long enough for people to notice what he was doing. And whipping was not a typical Jewish punishment: it was a specifically Roman practice. Money changers converted Roman currency, which the Jews were forced to use under Roman occupation, into currency acceptable at the temple -- at very high cost. Those selling animals took advantage of poor people who had no livestock of their own to sacrifice. More than impulsive rage, Jesus's response communicated a specific message: those who used the occupation to further oppress their Jewish brothers and sisters placed themselves outside the community and were subject to the brutality of the masters they chose to serve.

While whipping is off the table, we need have no patience for people who try to insert commerce between us and our God. True followers of Christ do not ask for donations in exchange for prayer or show favor in proportion to one's financial resources. Religious leaders who do such things, particularly when they exploit the poor and desperate, deserve to be challenged and -- if necessary  -- rebuked. No human agent stands between us and God. His love and grace are free to all.

Evening readings: Psalms 25; 91

Viva Variety

Today's readings: Psalms 22; 148, Deuteronomy 7:12-16, Titus 2:1-15, John 1:35-42

According to John’s gospel, the first two disciples to follow Jesus were originally disciples of John the Baptist. One day the three of them were standing around when Jesus walked by and John declared him the Lamb of God. The two disciples began to literally follow him, until he turned around and asked what they were looking for. Then they followed him home. One of them (Andrew) found his brother Simon and told him they’d found the Messiah. Upon meeting Simon, Jesus told him his new name was Cephas (Aramaic for Rock, the same meaning as Peter).

But don’t Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell a much more interesting version of this story? In that one, Jesus goes down to the docks, starts recruiting, and promises to make any who follow him “fishers of men.” The sales pitch is so good people drop their nets and follow him immediately. This tale was surely known to the author of John, so why not use it?

In both versions, whether guided by a teacher or invited directly, Jesus’s disciples feel immediately compelled to follow him. In a way, these two paths are representative of the ways we can come to know Christ: we can be born into a faith passed on to us, or Jesus can come bursting into our lives from seemingly nowhere. Neither way is more correct than the other, but one makes a more exciting story. While this was not the point the author of John was trying to make, maybe we can consider it when hearing people’s varying faith journeys.

If we have been born into a faith, some people’s conversion stories may seem more dynamic and exciting than our own lifelong belief. We should let their enthusiasm reinvigorate our own faith and challenge us to look at it as if it were new to us. If we are converts, we have recently given much thought to what we believe and why, like immigrants who’ve studied to become citizens. Though it may seem others haven’t worked quite as hard for the privilege, we can rely on the grounded experience of lifelong citizens of faith to inform us of the rich traditions we share. No matter how we’ve come to know Christ, we have gifts to share.

Evening readings: Psalms 105; 130

Ash Wednesday: Turn Around, Jonah

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 147:1-11; Jonah 3:1-4:11; Hebrews 12:1-14; Luke 18:9-14

When most people think of the story of Jonah, they think of "Jonah and the Whale" or the great fish that carried him in its belly to dry land. While that may be the most spectacular element of the story, it is not the most important. Today's reading comes from the end of the story, when Jonah has preached to the Ninevites as the Lord commanded him to do. He is despondent because the Ninevites - enemies who oppressed his people - have taken his warning to heart and repented, and worse yet the Lord has forgiven and spared them from destruction. Jonah is so upset he retreats to the edge of town, where the hot sun beats down on him, and tells the Lord he would rather die than be party to the Ninevite's salvation. The Lord, of course, sees it differently.

Lent is a time to meditate on our own need to repent, to turn away from our sins and towards our God. Jonah's story reminds us repentance comes in many forms. Are we Ninevites, blatantly disregarding God? If so, we can decide right now to accept God's eternally open invitation to reconciliation. When we truly repent we won't need to wear sackcloth like the real Ninevites for the change to be obvious. Jonah, it turns out, is a tougher nut to crack. He clings so tightly to his hatred of the Ninevites that he resents God's mercy and willingness to forgive them. If we are religious people who think we've got it right, self-reflection might reveal we're Jonahs. We might not be able to accept deep down that those who aren't quite getting it right, or who have done us wrong, or who aren't repenting in the ways we think they should, are equally beloved by God. Being "in the right" can blind us to just how wrong our hearts are.

This Lent, let's reflect on how we might repent and forgive those who challenge us. Not only does God forgive them, but He invites us to be part of the whole process. That means we can't sit on our cushion of resentment watching them from afar, but that we must learn to live in the thick of them, loving them even when we can't like them. We will know we have repented when, no matter which way we turn, we face God.

Evening readings: Psalms 27, 51

God Will Wait

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146, Deuteronomy 6:16-25, Hebrews 2:1-10,  John 1:19-28

In church we learn to praise and worship and express our gratitude to God. We thank God for the good things in our lives, and ask for his strength during the bad times. We admire people whose faith is rock-solid even during times of crisis, and usually aspire to have that kind of faith ourselves. In fact, there may be a little cultural pressure from other Christians not to express negative emotions toward God.

So let’s thank him for one more thing: the psalmists! They were not afraid to rail at God when things got tough. The author of Psalm 42 declares: “My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, ‘Where is your God?’” (v 3) This psalmist is not afraid to ask: “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?” (v 9) And these were not private episodes behind a locked door where the other faithful could not see and judge: they were public declarations recorded for the ages. If psalms of lamentation made it into the Bible, just maybe it’s all right for us to express such feelings ourselves, even in public.

God is not so fragile that he will turn away from us like a fair weather friend because we’ve hurt his feelings. During Rosh Hashanah faithful Jews make atonement for their failings, but part of the tradition also involves calling God to account for the state of the world. The very name of the nation of Israel means “wrestling with God.” We are not required to be always happy or even satisfied with God. It might even be impossible, since we are built to be in a relationship with God, and all deep relationships at some point experience conflict.

An argument does not end a real relationship. Handled properly, it is a chance for learning and growth – though when we argue with God it is almost certainly we are the ones who need to grow. At the close of the psalm, the psalmist tells his soul: “Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God” (v 11b). If at this or any moment you are angry with God, it’s not the end of the relationship. God will wait.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Who Built It?

Today's readings: Psalms 5; 145, Deuteronomy 6:1-15, Hebrews 1:1-14, John 1:1-18

Shortly before the Israelites ended their forty years of wandering in the desert, Moses spoke to them about how they were to live in the promised land. These sermons, which make up most of the book of Deuternomy, were good news for the Israelites, but not for the Canaanites – who were already living in the promised land of Cana. The authors of Deuteronomy, through the words of Moses, warn the people of Israel:

“When the LORD your God has brought you into the land that he swore to your ancestors […] — a land with fine, large cities that you did not build, houses filled with all sorts of goods that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant — […] take care that you do not forget the LORD.” (Deut 6:10-12)

How easy it is to believe we have received all the good things in our lives through our own merit, and to forget how much of it is due to the people who came before us. These people are not only direct ancestors, but those who shaped our lives and societies through victories – and sometimes more poignantly through losses. Financial inheritance, good genes, a strong work ethic, economies stable enough to support business, roads, an education, natural resources beyond measure, civil rights: all these things which contribute to our success and survival were provided by others who either gave them or had them taken away. No matter how hard we’ve worked for what we have, we didn’t do it alone.

Our sense of gratitude is tied to our sense of history. Each person’s life is built on the bones of those who voluntarily and involuntarily contributed to it. Our sense of justice is also tied to our willingness to remember history. All societies, past and present, are a mix of what we’ve built, what we’ve been given, and what we’ve taken. When the Israelites remembered how God had delivered them to their homes, they also had to remember the people of Cana. When we give thanks for what we have, let’s also remember where it came from.

Evening readings: Psalms 82; 29

Stop! Collaborate and listen.

Today's readings: Psalms 104; 149, Isaiah 61:10 - 62:5, 2 Timothy 4:1-8, Mark 10:46-52

Today in Mark, we read the story of a blind beggar who was sitting by the roadside when Jesus passed by on his way out of Jericho. When he realized it was Jesus, he began to cry out to him, but many people tried to silence him. Mark doesn’t identify these people who “ordered him to be quiet” (Mark 10:48), but the implication is they were followers of Christ. The blind man’s persistence paid off when Jesus stopped to wait for him, then healed him saying: “Go; your faith has made you well” (v 52).

Have we ever been one of the silencers? For example, during Sunday worship as we follow Jesus down the road from the first hymn to the eventual benediction and dismissal, we aren’t generally fond of interruptions. How would we react to a blind beggar shouting out in faith in the middle of that journey? To a crying baby and exhausted mother? To a grieving widower who sobs when the joyful song we are singing reminds him of the wife he just lost? We might actually shush them, or we might rely on the pressure of the group to do so, or we could ignore their obvious need. In any case, the message is clear: don’t interrupt.

Sure we could dismiss them as inconsiderate: why can’t they wait for an appropriate moment? Yet what moment could be more appropriate than a gathering of the followers of Jesus – the man who knew he was on the road to crucifixion but stopped in his tracks when someone cried out? In worship or in everyday life, following Jesus means stopping where he would stop. We can’t expect need and pain to wait until a convenient break in the scheduled activities to express themselves; otherwise we’ve marched Jesus right out of town.

While we can’t reasonably run down every side street searching for blind beggars, let’s be careful not to ignore or silence the needy right in our path because we have a well-crafted agenda that doesn’t involve them. Worship is more than formal prayer and praise; it is any expression of love and gratitude for God and his creation. Sometimes an interruption is an opportunity to do our most meaningful worship.

Evening readings: Psalms 138; 98

Get Over It

Today's readings: Psalms 51; 148, Isaiah 61:1-9, 2 Timothy 3:1-17, Mark 10:32-45

When Christians gain power, trouble follows. Before we get too bent out of shape over that statement, let's just be clear it's true about any religion. Some Christians like to claim we live in a nation that is – or at least should be – Christian. What exactly does that mean? Which particular branch of Christianity are they referring to? And most importantly what part of the teachings of Jesus leads them to believe political power is a good influence on Christian character – or vice versa?

Jesus tells his disciples time and again, they are meant to be servants as he is a servant. To be first, they must be slaves of all (Mark 10:44). In one sense we are fortunate to live in a time and place where our faith is not a threat to our well-being. On the other hand, having been told that we should expect persecution, we have greatly skewed our sense of what that means. Because we have no reason to fear martyrdom, we fear that any loosening of our grasp on power and control is a form of persecution. For evidence we only need look as far as the trumped up War on Christmas: why would we ever expect places of commerce to assert our religious beliefs? Then there's the outrage over religious displays that have been removed from government property or – worse yet! – made inclusive. Government recognition of a religion makes us beholden to that government – the very antithesis of what Jesus taught.

In twenty-first century America we simply don't suffer any real persecution for our faith – unless allowing people to disagree with us or having our feelings hurt has become a form of persecution. So perhaps instead of railing against perceived slights, we should be celebrating them! When we rub society the wrong way, we're just doing our job. When we rub other Christians the wrong way, we're probably earning overtime. Paul says "all who want to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted" (Tim 3:12). When we settle for becoming outraged at someone who thinks we shouldn't get to tell them how to live, we demonstrate our faith is too weak to handle the persecution ladled on those who truly spread the Good (but sometimes unpopular) News.

Evening readings: Psalms 142; 65

Broken Relationships

Today's readings: Psalms 89:1-18; 147:1-11, Isaiah 59:1-21, 2 Timothy 1:15-2:13, Mark 10:1-16

Time after time, Jesus taught his followers love, mercy, and justice supersede any technically correct but unjust applications of the law. He ate with "unclean" sinners (Mark 2). He violated the Sabbath laws to heal (Mark 3 and elsewhere) and declared the Sabbath was made for man, not the other way around. He declared all foods "clean" (Mark 7).  He criticized religious leaders for their hypocrisy (chapter all-of-them). It must have felt like he was tossing out the rulebook. Until the Pharisees asked about divorce.

Suddenly Jesus was proposing stricter standards, saying Moses permitted divorce only because his people were stubborn and those who remarried committed adultery (10:2-10). Does this seem like an unexpected turn? Not if we understand that Jesus also calls us to integrity. A man could divorce his wife regardless of his wife's wishes. After that he owed her nothing, and she could easily end up a beggar in the street. Consigning someone to such a fate because someone else caught your eye was the opposite of merciful and just.

While modern day divorce does not generally result in such extreme circumstances, it is always unfortunate. Society expects (insists?) divorcing parties to be antagonistic, or even vindictive. Yet as we do in all situations, we have the choice to act with integrity. For ourselves and our children, we should do our best to remember the other person is a beloved child of God, whom we once professed to love as well.

Relationships of all kinds strain and break, but as members of the body of Christ we remain united at some level. Even when we can't stand each other - maybe especially then - the route of mercy and justice leads us home to wholeness.

Evening readings: Psalms 1; 33

There is no eye in team Jesus

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146, Isaiah 58:1-12, 2 Timothy 1:1-14, Mark 9:42-50

One of the difficulties of being an original disciple might have been figuring out when to take Jesus literally, and when he was exaggerating to make a point. The book of Acts and the letters of Paul don't tell any stories of one-handed, one-eyed evangelists, so they seem to have assumed the latter when he said "If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off" (Mk 9:43) and "if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out" (v 47).

Jesus was not advocating self-mutilation. He was telling us we need to remove from our lives anything that leads us toward sin and away from God. His choice of imagery tells us this process may be painful, and that we may be called to separate ourselves from things we hold dear. If "it is better [...] to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell" (vv 45-46), surely we can examine our own lives for obstacles we need to remove.

Maybe we need to free ourselves of an addiction. Or maybe our words are wicked with gossip. Is there a relationship we prioritize above our faith? Do we love the sound of jingling coins too much to give them away? Tongues, loins, ears ... Jesus could have used any body parts to make his point that no matter how painful it seems in the short term, we must give up things - no matter how treasured or vital they seem - that hold us back from entering fully into the life he offers.

Christ doesn't ask us to give these things up simply to exercise power over us. Every bad habit and unhealthy behavior we lop off makes room for a more abundant life. When our spirits are unburdened, our hands, feet, and  eyes - all our parts - are unlikely to betray us. As backwards as it may seem, sometimes we must cut parts away to find wholeness.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Last / First

Today's readings: Psalms 5; 145, Isaiah 57:14-21,  Galatians 6:11-18, Mark 9:30-41

If you’ve been on a job interview in the last fifteen years or so, there’s a good chance you’ve been asked: “Where do you see yourself five years from now?” Potential employers ask this question hoping to determine how well the position fits with your goals and motivation. Imagine you are applying for the position of president of a Fortune 500 company, then imagine answering this question with: “I’m hoping to be in an entry-level position in the mail room by then.”

That would be a pretty crazy answer – unless you were interviewing for the position of disciple. Jesus had some fairly unorthodox recruiting techniques (“Hey, Peter and Andrew! Quit your jobs and follow me!”) so it’s no surprise his career advice was unconventional as well. When the disciples were arguing about which of them was the greatest, Jesus told them: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mk 9:35). When following Jesus, success means service.

This doesn’t mean we should suppress or hide our own gifts and contributions, or that we can’t be leaders. To the contrary, we should fully use all the talents at our disposal to the glory of God. We can even apply for that CEO position, as long as in all things we are serving as Christ commanded. No matter how successful the world tells us we might be, God’s criteria for success include how welcoming we are to children (v 37) or whether we give a thirsty person a cup of water (v 41). We can serve from a penthouse or a cardboard box, but we must serve.

Servant leadership costs us. Sometimes that cost may be social standing and higher earnings, other times it may be our safety. Paul bore the marks of servant leadership on his body in the form of scars from beatings he received for spreading the gospel (Gal 6:17). We don’t aspire to these hardships or offer them as proof of our superior humility , but if necessary, we modestly accept them. They prepare us for a career of Christ-like leadership. If someone asks us where we want to be in five years, are we ready to say “last of all?”

Evening readings: Psalms 82, 29

Susan Werner - "Probably Not"

Related to today's post about faith and doubt. Susan Werner is a gem.

When in doubt...

Today's readings: Psalms 63, 149; Isaiah 56:1-8; Galatians 5:25-6-10; Mark 9:14-29

Doubt is an inescapable factor of the human condition. From checking an iron we aren’t sure we unplugged to wondering whether a God could possibly exist, we all experience doubt, most of us on a fairly regular basis. Many of us fall prey to the false choice between doubt and faith. In a world that emphasizes an "either/or" mentality, we can find it difficult if not sometimes impossible to embrace a "both/and" perspective. It is entirely possible to balance both doubt and faith in our lives.

After her death, Mother Teresa became a famous example of the embodiment of both doubt and faith. The publication of her private papers revealed her inner struggle with God and faith. For some people, this revelation confirmed their skepticism of faith. But rather than undermine her previous image, perhaps it really served to make her more accessible: if such a revered religious figure struggled with the same doubts we do, our faith also has the potential to be as great as hers.

Jesus did not turn away doubters. One day a man brought his son to Jesus. The main claimed a demon had struck the boy mute and convulsed him with seizures. When the man asked Jesus to help "if you are able" (Mark 9:22), Jesus replied all things were possible to those who believed (v 23). The man replied "I believe; help my unbelief!" (v 24). Could there be a more desperate, humble and honest response? Jesus went on to heal the boy through prayer. Yet this man, while his belief was bolstered in the moment, certainly continued to experience doubt throughout his life, just as the rest of us do.

We are built to juggle contradictory emotions and ideas. At a good memorial or wake, we grieve loss and laugh at memories. Sending a child to the first day of kindergarten or college is often bittersweet. Our relationships with loved ones are a complicated mix of love, anger and countless other simultaneous feelings. These conflicting emotions do not invalidate each other or the experiences that drive them. God has given us the ability to harbor both faith and doubt, so let us use each wisely.

Evening readings: Psalms 125, 90

That was fast...

Read this article minutes after posting today's devotional on Christianity's self-inflicted PR problem. The author isn't making that point specifically, but it's a sad illustration.

Beautifully Broken

Today’s readings: Psalms 84; 148, Isaiah 55:1-13, Galatians 5:16-24, Mark 9:2-13

Christians have an image problem. Like any other group in the age of the 24-hour news cycle, our most extreme and attention-grabbing brothers and sisters make the news and tell our story … whether we’d like them to or not. When a tiny church comprised of a handful of family members pickets military funerals to protest homosexuality, they make national headlines for years. A “family-values” politician caught in an affair becomes a media spectacle and fodder for those who would point out Christian hypocrisy. These types of public relations problems are not unique to Christians, or even religious groups. The public is fascinated with scandals, especially when they involve someone who has portrayed him- or herself as a “righteous” person.

Paul seems to draw distinct lines between the drunken, quarrelsome fornicators who will not inherit the kingdom of God, and the joyful, generous peacemakers who will (Gal 5:19-23). We want to heed his words: for good or ill, the behaviors he describes do have consequences in our lives and relationships with God and each other. As Christians we can feel pressure to appear as if we have all the good qualities and none of the bad. In reality, we have the same faults and foibles as everyone else, and when we pretend otherwise, people can practically smell the insincerity. Humbly acknowledging our own flaws doesn’t diminish our witness. To the contrary it tells the true story of grace: not that we become perfect, but that we accept God’s love despite our imperfections.

Acknowledging our flaws doesn’t mean we should settle for them. As we grow in our faith, our behaviors and attitudes will reflect that growth. When someone is thoroughly grounded in her or his faith, other struggling people – believers and non-believers alike – feel comfortable enough with that person to be truthful. To love like God loves, we must recognize a person’s brokenness without defining them by it. Let’s do our part to fix that image problem by showing the world following Christ means being humble and truthful. As Christ’s broken body heals the world, our broken and contrite hearts do also.

Evening readings:  Psalms 25; 40

Slaves To Love

Today's readings: Psalms 116; 147:12-20, Isaiah 54:1-10 (11-17), Galatians 5:1-15, Mark 8:27-9:1

For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.

- Galatians 5:13

Culture wars in the United States focus on rights and freedoms. Conflict arises when one faction views a gain of rights by the opposition as a loss of freedom for its own: gay marriage vs. religious liberty; public displays of religious symbols vs. separation of church and state; federal regulations vs. states’ rights, etc. We tend to think of freedom as the “right” to do the things we want. Compare this idea to the above quote from Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Paul’s idea of the freedom granted us through Christ is not about indulging our “rights” but about joyously embracing our responsibilities.

In Paul’s vision, we are responsible to each other to a degree he compares to slavery. The idea that someone else’s well-being is my responsibility is not capitalist, democratic, or libertarian. Strictly speaking neither is it socialist nor communist, though claiming these ideals might get you branded as such. Christian principles transcend economics and politics of every stripe. Consistently applied, they will manage to offend almost everyone who defines his or her identity primarily through a political or economic affiliation. We may claim and even believe we identify primarily as followers of Christ, but if our worldview involves rationalizing away the idea of loving enslavement to one another, we are mistaken.

In John 15:13 Jesus states: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.” This statement is about more than being willing to take a bullet. It is about living in a way that makes us as accountable for the lives of others as for our own. This is not a typical modern western attitude – in fact it seems counterintuitive. It redefines a successful life as one that is not about itself. But following Christ means following him out of step with the culture around us. First and foremost we are residents of the kingdom of heaven, and it doesn’t grant dual citizenship.

Evening readings: Psalms 26; 130

Thanks In Advance

Today’s readings: Psalms 12; 146, Isaiah 52:1-12, Galatians 4:12-20, Mark 8:1-10

Why do we say, “Thank you?”

From childhood many of us are taught to sprinkle our conversation with a generous seasoning of “thank yous” until it becomes more of a reflex than a spontaneous outpouring.  Most of the time we say it after we’ve received something, such as a gift or a compliment. The sentiment behind our thanks may vary. Much (maybe most) of the time we are genuinely grateful for what we’ve received. Other times we may be humbled. And then there are those times we may feel unworthy of what we’ve received. Like many phrases which seem simple and easy to interpret, “Thank you” can turn out to be quite complicated.

When Jesus asked the disciples to feed thousands of people with a few fish and loaves of bread, he began the meal by giving thanks to God. This may seem little different than the grace said before a typical church pot luck, but there is one important difference: Jesus hadn’t received anything yet. Even though we say grace in advance of a meal, we know there is a meal waiting to be had. For what was Jesus thankful? Perhaps for the faith that God would provide.

Some people believe thanking God, or the universe, in advance is part of a formula for actualizing your desires. Beginning from a place of thanks is much simpler than that: it helps us acknowledge that what we have is enough, and when we have enough we find it easier to share with those who do not. The idea of saying grace is tied primarily to meals (partly because people were literally praying the food would not kill them), but what if we said a prayer of thanks before a wider range of activities? Thanking God for the time, money, resources, and love in our lives – in advance of the time we need or share them – can greatly improve our attitudes and outlook.

Let’s not reserve our thanksgiving until after we have received. Let’s give thanks in advance for whatever it is God may place in our lives, and we will be prepared to put those gifts to use in ways beyond imagining.

Evening readings:  Psalms 36; 7

The Moral Arc

Morning readings: Psalms 122; 149, Isaiah 51:1-8, Galatians 3:23-29, Mark 7:1-23

The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said: "The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice." He was not the first to use this particular metaphor. In 1857 Unitarian minister Theodore Parker used it in a sermon against slavery. Between Parker and King, other religious referenced the "moral arc." This image endures because because it bears out over time. Over the centuries, as prejudices become less acceptable, more and more people have gained access to freedom and justice .

Jesus constantly expanded the circle of justice to include the disenfranchised and despised. As Paul wrote to the Galatians: "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus." (Gal 3:28). Distinctions that separate human beings from one another have no meaning in the kingdom of God. Since Paul's time, the moral arc has led the church to remove divisions and champion justice in the form of abolition, civil rights, child labor laws, and other progressive social movements. Like society at large, the church experiences an uneven ebb and flow of progress, but on the whole it moves in the direction of justice. What barriers to justice are eroding right now?

Popular wisdom says that once we get to know individuals  or groups, we are more inclined to consider them equal and treat them justly. While this is generally true, and while it is desirable to broaden our understanding of the world by getting to know people, a hard truth remains: we simply don't have time to understand all the people Jesus would have us love. Does Christian love - expressed in mercy and justice - require us to understand its recipients? It does not, and demands to be extended especially toward those who remain alien to us.

Perhaps the only real division is between people we understand and people we don't. Can we rise to the challenge of loving people justly even when our lack of understanding makes us uncomfortable? The road to justice arcs beyond our ability to see, but it is where Christ waits to meet us.

Evening readings: Psalms 100; 63

Riding Out The Storm

Today's readings: Psalms 88; 148, Isaiah 50:1-11, Galatians 3:15-22, Mark 6:47-56

The Gospels contain a few different versions of stories about Jesus walking on water. In today's reading from Mark, he begins striding across the Sea of Galilee when he notices the disciples in their boat are struggling against the waves. The shortest sentence in this story may be the most revealing: "He intended to pass them by." (Mark 6:46b)

Jesus only climbed into their boat when they thought he was a ghost and grew afraid. Until that point, it seemed he expected they would be capable of fending  for themselves. Only a few minutes away from his presence, and they lost courage and - it seems - the ability to recognize him.

At some points in our lives, even the most faithful can feel like God has abandoned us. What if - like Jesus walking past the disciples in the boat - God has more faith in our ability to weather the storms than we do? Our strength derives from the knowledge (if not necessarily the feeling) God is always with us, but he does not literally need to be in the same boat. Could it be possible that when God is moving in a direction we don't expect, particularly one that is diverging from us, we might fail to recognize the movement as his?

Jesus was teaching his disciples more than how to follow him: he was teaching them to lead others. He left them (and us) the Holy Spirit, but he also left them with the reassurance he believed they were capable of feeding his sheep (John 21:15-17). It took a lot of stormy moments - culminating in the crucifixion - for the disciples to understand this lesson. If we are to be witnesses for the good news, we must not despair every time the boat rocks. During the worst storms, even if we are to drown, God walks the waters to lift us out.

Evening readings: Psalms 6; 20

A burden shared...

Today’s readings: Psalms 54; 146, Isaiah 48:12-21 (22), Galatians 1:18-2:10,  Mark 6:1-13

When Jesus felt the disciples were finally ready to travel and spread his teachings, he dispatched them in pairs. He told them to bring nothing extra: no food, no luggage, no extra clothes and no money. For shelter they were to rely on the hospitality of the communities they visited, and in its absence they were to rely on the open road. Though his commands sounded harsh, Mark reports the disciples had successful journeys.

It’s easy to develop a mindset that we just can’t survive without the basics. As technology evolves, the “basics” have become anything but: smart phones, tablets, fitness bands, bottled water, credit cards, etc, etc.  Today we can barely imagine going on a mission trip without a GPS and the Bible on an e-reader. Imagine what it would feel like to have Jesus unpacking your purse or backpack or luggage saying: “You won’t be needing this mp3 player. Or this phone. Or different shoes for hiking and digging. Or this pencil. Or…” until eventually you have nothing but a walking stick, the clothes on your back, and a single companion.

Photo Credit: John Schultz

Yet what a gift it is when two people are separated by no distractions and joined by a dedication to the Good News. On our own we can easily wander down the wrong path, but a companion keeps us accountable and on track. Our fear is less when someone has our back, and our strength is greater when we are responsible for and with another. Throughout the scriptures we can read examples of prophets and leaders who were at their best when they had a partner sharing the burden: Moses and Aaron, David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi, Elijah and Elisha.

Relationships are formed in the absence of distractions. Being fully present with another person while you both are working for the Kingdom of God is a uniquely bonding experience. That work can be anything from digging wells in Africa to praying together for someone in need. It can’t be done well if we are dealing with unnecessary items that distract us from the task at hand. Jesus teaches us again and again that we don’t need possessions. Even more he teaches us we need each other.

Evening readings: Psalms 28; 99

Worthy

Today’s readings: Psalms 57; 145, Isaiah 48:1-11, Galatians 1:1-17,  Mark 5:21-43

Every one of us feels insecure about something. Perhaps it's our physical appearance. Our weight. Our ability. Our lovability. Our faith. Secrets we keep. Secrets we can't keep. Things we've done. Things we've left undone. Sadly, human beings have an infinite capacity for reasons to feel insecure. Left to fester, feelings of insecurity can quickly grow into feelings of unworthiness. Do we know anyone who feels unworthy to be loved by themselves, by others, or even by God? Where do we get these ideas we might be unworthy?

In today's gospel story, a woman who suffered with a hemorrhage for twelve years touched Jesus's robe and was healed by her faith. Under Levitical law, this woman was unclean, and therefore unworthy of touching a rabbi like Jesus. Societal norms might have kept her from being healed, but Jesus had no words of rebuke for her – only words of praise for her faith. As the incarnation of the divine, Jesus demonstrated unworthiness is a concept we use to hold each other back but it places no limitations on God's love for us. We must never let anyone tell us differently.

Other times feelings of unworthiness spring from actions we have taken and lives we have led. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul reminds them that before he evangelized for Christ, he was a murderer of Christians – surely a matter of no small regret. He also points out that once God chose him, he "did not confer with any human being" (Gal 1:16) but set directly about his calling. We learn at least two things from his experience. First, we are worthy because God tells us so, not because we or someone else decides it. Second, we don't have to wait for the approval of others to behave as though we are worthy: if that were the case, Paul would never have gotten started!

If God felt a notorious murderer of Christians was worthy of being their greatest evangelist, how much ego does it take to believe our small offenses make us unworthy of God's love? When we don't have faith in our own worthiness, let's remember our God has faith in us!

Evening readings: Psalms 85; 47

These Boots Were Made For Preachin'

Today’s readings: Psalms 56; 149, Isaiah 46:1-13, Ephesians 6:10-24, Mark 5:1-20

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul created one of the most popular extended metaphors in Christian literature: the armor of God. He writes about the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit. He mentions shoes, but is noticeably less specific about them: “put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace” (Eph 6:15).

What do we put on to make us ready to proclaim the gospel of peace? As a society we design and purchase shoes specific to a countless number of functions. Sneakers are now court shoes, cross-trainers, running shoes, walking shoes, and on and on. We buy shoes specific to occupations, seasons, and recreational choices (we’re especially looking at you, bowlers!). Perhaps we really don’t need so many kinds of shoes, but each makes its corresponding activity easier, safer, and/or more comfortable. That may be a good model for proclaiming the gospel.

Not everyone is open to hearing the good news in the same way. Some prefer an intellectual approach. Others respond to a more emotional testimony. And others learn more from observing our actions than listening to our words. There are probably as many ways people hear the gospel proclaimed as there are … styles of shoes. Our natural tendency is to proclaim the gospel in a way that fits us comfortably: “If I am touched by emotional stories, you must be, too!” Sharing the gospel with someone in a way that does not speak to them can be awkward and even painful. Just as we might check the weather before deciding on flip-flops or snow boots, we should take time to get to know someone rather than forcing an inappropriate style of witness on them.

We can each become a collector of “proclamation” footwear – it’s free, takes up no  space in our closets, and the more we have the more we can spread the good news!

Evening readings: Psalms 118; 111

Questions Worth Asking

Today's readings: Psalms 36; 147:12-20, Isaiah 45:5-17, Ephesians 5:15-33, Mark 4:21-34

Human beings like answers. It was true thousands of years ago in the time of the prophet Isaiah, it's true today, and it will be true thousands of years from now. Uncertainty vexes us. Sometimes we are more content to grasp at false answers than to have no answers at all. Yet sometimes the answer is simply ... there is no answer.

When the exiled nation of Israel cried out against God's seeming abandonment of them, Isaiah challenged their right to take God to task. He compared them to clay questioning the choices of the potter. The God of Israel declared he "made weal and created woe" (Is 45:7) as he saw fit, and human beings should not strive to comprehend why.

Like the ancient Israelites, we often want to know why God has allowed things

(more often bad than good) to happen to us. Some people's faith evaporates when something bad happens and the world stops making sense to them. "How can a loving God let bad things happen?" they wonder. That question can feel threatening to people of faith. An entire industry of apologetics, creationist "proofs," and theological musings has evolved to address that question. In the end, most of them are overly pat and largely unsatisfying.

Questioning is healthy, but some questions will remain unanswerable. Isaiah, Job, Proverbs: these scriptures and others advise us energy spent on unanswerable questions could be put to better use. If we can accept that God is good and bad things still happen, we can move on to address questions of a faith lived in the world as it really is: Whom shall we serve? How shall we love? Where is God leading us? Questions worth asking are worth living through.

Evening readings: Psalms 80; 27

Idols, Idols Everywhere

Today's readings: Psalms 123; 146, Isaiah 44:9-20, Ephesians 4:17-32, Mark 3:19b-35

The prophet Isaiah paints a very vivid picture of a man creating an idol. This man plants and nourishes a cedar. Half of it he uses as fuel for a fire he can use to roast meat and warm himself. The other half he carves into a god and worships. As far as Isaiah is concerned, he is worshipping the equivalent of the ashes left from his cook fire.

For some people, money is an idol, though it is no more than paper and stamped metal (and sometimes no more than a promise). For others it's a tribal affiliation, such as a political party whose platform is only as stable as it's electability. Still others idolize a denomination, the Bible, beauty, fame, or power. We may not call them idols, but they serve the same purpose and keep us from full relationship with the true God.

Even family can be an idol. When Jesus' family tries to call him away from the crowd gathered around him to hear his teachings, he declares: "Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother" (Mk 3:35). When we focus on immediate family to the exclusion of our greater family in God, we have created an idol. We need not reject our birth family, but we should be prepared to add to it.

What idols do we need to clear from our own lives? What draws focus and energy that belong to God? Perhaps it is a grudge we bear. Maybe it is an obsession with social status. It could be an addiction or a relationship or ... well, anything.

Anything we idolize is ultimately no more than ash destined to blow away on the wind. Only God is constant. We can appreciate the impermanent things of creation, but our love must be reserved for the eternal creator.

Evening readings: Psalms 30; 86

Healthy Body /Healthy Spirit

Today's readings: Psalms 135; 145, Isaiah 44:6-8, 21-23, Ephesians 4:1-16, Mark 3:7-19

When an injury occurs, overcompensating with another body part can cause further harm. For example, limping for an extended period can strain the good leg and the back and require additional treatment. Another example of the interconnectedness of our parts is the phenomenon of referred pain, which occurs when injury to one body part causes pain in a different one, such as a spinal injury causing arm pain, making proper diagnosis and treatment difficult.

In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul compares the structure of the body of Christ to the human body. He emphasizes the importance of each part, and the need for unity in a healthy body. For the body to grow in love, all parts must function properly. Sometimes, though, we may not be able to easily determine which part we're meant to be. What then?

Our "diagnostic test" is this: do our actions (or inactions) contribute to the spiritual unity of the body? If we cause other parts to falter or carry our burdens, we need to reexamine our role. However, any physical therapist knows pain in the cause of healing is sometimes unavoidable. When it occurs in the body of Christ, we must ask ourselves whether the pain is a price to pay for unity. If it is, the body will be stronger for enduring it; if not we must cease. When the body is brought back into balance, pain for all members of the body is minimized and the use of our gifts is maximized.

Like physical health, spiritual health is not founded on quick fixes. It is a mature approach to healthy, balanced decisions benefitting the body, not just ones satisfying our localized  whims and short-term comfort. We all depend on each other, and must provide and accept support accordingly.

Evening readings: Psalms 97; 112

My Own Worst Enemy

Today's readings: Psalms 19; 150, Isaiah 43:14-44:5, Hebrews 6:17-7:10, John 4:27-42

The Gospels contain two prominent stories about Samaritans. The more famous is the parable of the good Samaritan, but today's reading from John is about a Samaritan woman Jesus met at a well, and the results of her witness to her people. Religiously and ethnically the Samaritans were an offshoot of Judaism -- though they would tell you it was the other way around. One primary difference was that Jews considered Jerusalem the center of the faith, while Samaritans claimed it was Mount Gerizim. This and a few other differences made them enemies. As with many feuds, both tribal and personal, their common past seemed more to divide than unite them.

It would have been shocking to Jesus' contemporaries that he interacted with a Samaritan (let alone a woman). Her witness to her people would have been equally scandalous, yet it was so powerful they sought Jesus out and invited him to teach them. He spent two days with them, but we learn no details of this exchange other than they recognized him as the Messiah.

Inclusion of this passage may have been political, but it illustrates the inclusive nature of Christ's faith and politics. Throughout history, Christian denominations have split bitterly over ideas that most lay people never understand. Political parties are increasingly polarized, most of that division driven by extreme elements not representing the vast middle. Family members nurse grudges for years or even decades after an argument has no more relevance to their lives. Maintaining such rifts causes much more damage and fallout than the original source of tension ever could. Christ showed us we need to transcend these differences and heal these wounds face to face.

Evening readings: Psalms 81; 113

"The sabbath was made for man..."

Today’s readings: Psalms 104; 149, Isaiah 42:18-43:13, Ephesians 3:14-21, Mark 2:23-3:6

Jesus was constantly reminding the religious leaders of his time that the law was not created to oppress the people. When the Pharisees accused him of violating the Sabbath by picking grain to eat, he told them: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath” (Mk 2:28) He reminded them that King David ate the bread in the temple when he was starving. The comparison may have been a bit of a stretch, but his point is clear: God’s foremost priority is the people, not the law. While it may be clear to us that picking a handful of grain for the moment’s enjoyment is qualitatively different than working a day in the field, the Pharisees made no such distinction between the letter and spirit of the law.

On the other hand, as Jesus tried to put the law into perspective, he at no time dismissed it wholesale. He never claimed the Sabbath was made for humankind…  to ignore. Christians should remember this when we consider whether faith absolves us of any particular obligations. We are eager to hear the message we are not slaves to the law, and we should just as eagerly receive Christ’s words about our responsibilities to justice and mercy. American culture is particularly prone to establishing rights, but how would we react to any proposed Bill of Responsibilities? Freedom is only one side of the coin. Despite our freedom – or maybe even because of it – Jesus clearly has expectations of our behavior; we are to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and imprisoned (Matt 25:31-46). Because the spirit is more important than the letter, this is not a simple checklist but a starting point. Freedom can be a wild creature; fortunately God gave each of us a brain, and we need to use it to rein in our fredom toward his service.

Like the Sabbath or the law, Jesus’ teachings were tools given to humankind. We depend on them to do our job as Christians. As with any good tools, we must learn to use them properly. To master them, not only do we have to read the manual, we have to apply them in the real world, and gain experience to know how they handle in action. A plumber isn’t a slave to his wrenches, but he isn’t much of a plumber without them.

Freedom from the law is a gift, but it is a gift we must use responsibly.


Evening reading: Psalms 138; 98

Chaotic Justice

Today's readings: Psalms 51; 148, Isaiah 42:1-17, Ephesians 3:1-13, Mark 2:13-22

Justice. To twenty-first century, Western sensibility, the word "justice" implies a certain type of order: punishment for wrongdoing, restitution for injury, protection and recovery of one's belongings and well-being. We use it in an almost exclusively legal sense. Phrases like "economic justice" spark debate about wealth redistribution  and who is deserving and who is not. We want justice to be blind, orderly, and swift.

God may take issue with that. When Isaiah describes the arrival of God's justice, the scene he paints is chaotic. God's justice lays waste to mountains, cries out like a woman in labor, and turns rivers into islands (Is. 42:14-15). As the representative of God's justice, Christ turns expectations upside down. He dines with tax collectors and other "undesirables." He eats and drinks to excess (as defined by those whose primary interest is not justice). He tells crazy stories about patched cloth and bursting wineskins. He doesn't behave at all like the messiah the Pharisees would have him be. When challenged about the company he keeps, Christ tells them straight up he is here for the sinners, not the righteous (Mark 2:17b).

If we broaden our understanding of justice beyond its strict legal interpretation, how is justice playing out in our modern world? Often it requires acts of civil disobedience -- acts that are seemingly the opposite of what is legally "just." Think of Rosa Parks, Susan B. Anthony, and Mahatma Gandhi. Each participated in great civil unrest in the name of justice. Not all were Christian or even acting from religious motivation, yet each helped move their corner of the world into a little better alignment with the kingdom of God, where the last are first and no distinctions are made on gender, social status, or ethnicity (Gal 3:28, Col 3:11).

We tend to think of blessed lives as quiet and orderly, but God's justice will upend our carefully crafted plans and lives. Followers of Christ spend a good deal of time on the margins of society, living with and working on behalf of the disenfranchised. According to each of our means and talents, we work for the type of justice that seeks to include rather than exclude, to practice mercy rather than revenge, and to raise to messy life systems that are orderly but deadly to the soul. Justice does not lock things down; it cracks them open.

Evening readings: Psalms 142; 65

Raise The Roof

Today's readings: Psalms 97; 147:12-20, Isaiah 41:17-29, Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 2:1-12

When people learned Jesus had returned home after several days away, a crowd gathered outside his home. It was so large that one man, whose friends had carried him there on a mat because he was paralyzed, couldn't get near the door. Undeterred, they tore an opening in the roof and lowered him into the house. Jesus rewarded his faith first by forgiving his sins, then by healing his infirmity.

This healing was performed partly as a demonstration to those who questioned Jesus's authority to forgive sins. The faith of the man helped Jesus further his ministry.

How hard would we work to get our friends to Jesus? Would we tear open a roof? Open a door to give them a place to stay? Open a window to freshen a room they can't leave? Open our mouths to speak of the good news?

Of course we shouldn't try to force the unwilling to meet him. But we can lend a hand to lift up those who are paralyzed by fear, addiction, or guilt. When we suffer those same conditions ourselves, we may need to lean on the strength and faith of others to deliver us to Christ's presence. Even when it seems impossible that we might reach him, there is a way to be found if we persevere.

When we break through whatever barriers are between us and Christ's healing presence, we may be surprised to find what we really need is forgiveness -- from God and from ourselves. Without a clean start, any other type of healing we experience will be incomplete. We are healed not just for our own sakes, but also to further Christ's ongoing ministry by sharing our own witness of the good news.

Evening readings: Psalms 16; 62